


Sleepless

by Vivian Moon (vivian_moon)



Category: Fantastic Four (Comicverse)
Genre: College era, Community: marvelkink-v2, M/M, Nightmares, Roommates, dubcon verging on non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivian_moon/pseuds/Vivian%20Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reed Richards/Victor Von Doom, in an AU where they actually did end up as college roommates. Reed discovers why it's dangerous to try and wake your roommate from a nightmare when he has lethal reflexes. And sleeps naked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another old kink meme fill...

Either Victor Von Doom is the worst roommate on Earth, or Reed is woefully ill-equipped to share his living space with other people. Possibly this is not an either/or scenario.

He'd had grand visions of intellectual discussions, excited exchanges of theories going on into the night. This is rather impeded by the fact that Victor doesn't talk to him. At all. Not even for normal human values of 'not talking' that still include phrases like, "don't touch that", "did you move my keys?" and, "I'm going out." Victor appears to communicate entirely in indecipherable growls and glares.

He leaves papers covered with intriguing calculations strewn all over Reed's space, and then snaps at Reed if he dares to look at them. He considers all of Reed's things his to borrow or use up, but God forbid Reed should touch his.

And he spends way too much of the time naked.

The naked thing is troubling, not least because Reed suspects it might actually be more his problem than Victor's. It's not like Victor's doing anything perverted. (So far as Reed can tell. He's not experienced in these things.) He's just completely unashamed of his own body. He sleeps in the nude, and doesn't bother throwing on a towel or robe just to move between the shower and his wardrobe. Reed can, intellectually, admire the efficiency - even as he cringes in reflex horror at the thought of being that exposed himself.

He just wishes that the efficiency was all he admired, and cringing was the only physical reaction it brought out in him.

Reed knows he wasn't the fastest boy in the world to notice girls, but he did get there eventually. So it's a little baffling to realise that he is now also noticing Victor. A lot.

It doesn't help that Victor is, well, frankly, gorgeous. Reed is fairly sure that this is an objective assessment and not his incipient crush talking. It's not like he's been drawn in by Victor's scintillating personality. Although he _does_ have a certain dramatic charisma...

But no. It's a simple, observable fact that Victor is classically beautiful. He could be a statue. Except that he's _not_ a statue, he's alive and warm-blooded and smells like sweat sometimes and- And. It's probably just as well Victor regards Reed as slightly less interesting than most of the furniture, or else he might actually notice how much time Reed spends hunched over in awkward positions or making furtive runs for the bathroom.

But all of that, Reed can live with. The real thing that Victor makes the worst roommate ever is the one thing he has no control over.

Victor talks in his sleep. Harsh, guttural words that Reed has to assume are Latverian. He never sounds happy, and his face never looks any more relaxed than it does in the daytime. He thrashes and turns restlessly, as if he's fighting things in his dreams.

And sometimes he has nightmares.

It's not that he wakes up screaming or has panic attacks. There's nothing fearful about the noises Victor makes in his sleep. They're _angry_ noises. Noises like- like someone's _hurting_ him, and he's trying to snap back at them. Like an animal trapped in a corner, chained down but still trying to lash out.

Reed lies awake and listens, and tries not to think about what has to happen to you before you have dreams like that all the time.

With all the sleepless nights that Victor's been causing him for several reasons, it's probably not a surprise when Reed falls asleep in the lab one night. He wakes up with his face on the keyboard, and ends up heading back to their shared room at somewhere after four. Victor's already in bed when he arrives.

And dreaming.

It's hard enough to listen to Victor toss and snarl when Reed's lying awake in the next bed. To actively walk past his bed while he's having a nightmare without seems even more cruel.

Maybe he could just give Victor a subtle sort of nudge, stir him out of the nightmare without fully waking him up...

-Gyahh.

It happens so fast that even afterwards Reed's not exactly sure _how_ he ended up flat on his back on the floor with Victor's hands around his throat. Under the crushing pressure he can barely choke out a whimper of surprise.

He guesses it's enough to identify him, because Victor lets up. A little.

" _What_ are you doing, Richards?" he demands acidly.

Reed falters for an answer. He's never been the best at making conversation under pressure, and right now, he's rather distracted by Victor's weight pinning him to the ground.

Victor's solid, muscular, sweaty, very naked weight. Oh boy. That was a bad thing to notice, because now he can't _stop_ noticing, and very soon _Victor_ is going to notice that he's... noticing.

He tries to shove Victor off of him, but Victor's all muscle while Reed's body is mostly fueled by coffee. The attempt only causes Victor's grip on him to tighten, thumbs pressing in just on the verge of cutting off Reed's air.

Reed's beginning to wonder if his physical responses are wired incorrectly, because surely it _cannot_ be normal for that to make his little problem... bigger.

Victor's eyes narrow abruptly, and Reed squeezes own his closed, pretty sure Victor's going to strangle him for real -or beat him up, or toss him out into the hallway and report him to the college authorities. And yet he's _still_ not getting any less hard. Oh God, what's _wrong_ with him, does he have some kind of medical condition?

Victor snarls and hauls him up off the ground, shoving him up against the wall. "So," he says coldly. "This is your game. You think to use me as fuel for your perversions."

"I-" Reed stutters, uncomfortably aware that however innocent his intent in shaking Victor awake, he _does_ actually appear to have more perversions than he knew about a few minutes ago.

"Take your clothes off," Victor commands, and Reed has _no_ idea what's coming, whether it's torture or humiliation or... something else, but his dick's still throbbing with blissful desperation as he fumbles to get his belt off, lever off his shoes. He yanks his shirt off over his head - something he's _never_ done, he always methodically undoes every button - and steps out of his pants and briefs together.

He stands skinny and naked before Victor in the darkened dorm room, burning with shame - and something else that burns a whole lot hotter.

Victor's coldly assessing gaze sweeps over him, and he gives a lip-curl of contempt. Then he grabs Reed by the shoulders, and shoves him to sprawl face down on the tangled covers of the bed.

Reed hears him yank open the drawer beside the bed, but he's still reeling from the sensation of hands on his bare skin and the fact the pillow smells so much like _Victor_. He doesn't stop to wonder what's going on until Victor grabs him by the hip, and forceful fingers shove in- well, somewhere that he's never contemplated anyone shoving _anything_ before.

His startled cry is muffled by the pillows. It's shocking and it _hurts_ as his body automatically resists, but Victor's fingers are slicked up with something - something he got out of the bedside drawer, Reed's analytical mind supplies - and then Reed's analytical mind takes a vacation as Victor's fingers slide past the resistance and it actually feels kind of- almost- very- oh, _wow_.

His brain's no longer home, but it seems his body's having good ideas all by itself, because his muscles have figured out the push he needs to help rather than hinder. His cock has gotten over the shock extremely fast, and as his hips jerk against the bed he's in danger of making a mess of Victor's sheets. The stimulation is just too much to take.

But then it's gone. Reed sags forward against the pillow with a deflated _whoof_ , unable to articulate his disappointment beyond a whine. He's panting for breath and it feels like the room is spinning. He wants- he wants-

And then Victor's hands are on his hips again, both of them, and then- oh, God. If the fingers were too much, then _this_ is... Reed gasps into the pillow, grits his teeth, because it burns, it feels like he's going to be torn in two, and yet he doesn't want it to stop, he doesn't want _Victor_ to stop; he wants this all the way no matter how much it hurts him. He wants it _because_ it hurts him. He feels Victor forcing his way in, not fast but a relentless, impossibly intense push- until something inside him gives. The resistance melts away and Victor slides all the way inside, his body flush against Reed's and... oh. _Oh_.

Reed's eyes go wide, but there's no time to marvel at the sensation, because Victor's already moving - moving against him, _in him_ , and Reed's powerless to stop himself from making embarrassing, frantic little gasping noises. Until Victor stops it for him, a hand clasped over his mouth that leaves him breathless, weightless, unaware of anything but the sensations bursting through him until the moment that it gets too much and everything _explodes_.

At the moment he comes he can't help but cry out, a sound that would surely be heard through the walls if not for Victor's muffling hand. Because Victor's still holding him, pinning him, fucking him, Reed's hit his limit but the overwhelming flood of sensation hasn't _stopped_. It feels like he's trapped in some hazy dream-world of pleasure, like it goes on forever before Victor finally spasms and slumps against him with a strangled grunt, the first sound he's made the whole time.

And then things are still.

For about two minutes, before Victor rolls off him without a word and strides across the room to claim Reed's untouched bed for his own. Reed is still nowhere near the level of rational thought required to care about the sticky, sweaty mussed covers. In fact, he's currently not planning on getting up ever again.

Eventually his analytical brain crawls out from wherever it's been hiding, and says, _Hey. So. I'm pretty sure that was sex._

He's pretty sure it was.

But repeating experiments for verification is never a bad idea.


End file.
